MONSTER STUFF
by KKBELVIS
Summary: Nope…not a gripping yarn of complicated, rich writing. Yep…is full of old-fashion, simple, pointless, purposeless heaping doses of hurt Sam and monster stuff.


MONSTER STUFF

By: Karen B.

Summary: **Nope…not **a gripping yarn of complicated, rich writing. **Yep…is **full of old-fashion, simple, pointless, purposeless heaping doses of hurt Sam and monster stuff.

Note: Sam POV.

Disclaimer: Not the owner.

**_When brothers agree, no fortress is so strong as their common life. ~Antisthenes_**

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Everything was one big, dark and fuzzy cloud, and I was drifting. From here to there, there to here, to who knew where. No matter that, one thing I did know. I was not alone as the floorboards creaked under heavy footfalls that were in no way trying to be quiet.

From the flat of my back, I opened my eyes and looked up.

Someone was looking back.

The face disfigured and demonic.

My heart jumped and my body would have too, but for some reason I couldn't move.

I heard a second set of footsteps. Closer and closer they came.

I had to do something. I couldn't just lay here and wait for my throat to be ripped open, by who knew what. I needed a gun or knife. I willed my heart to beat faster, hoping a spurt of adrenalin would get me to move.

My heartbeat picked up, but I still couldn't move. No hope. No adrenalin spurt. No moving. No gun. No chance. I was helpless.

I heard a howl like the wind, but it wasn't the wind - it was something else I couldn't pin down.

What the hell was this? I called out for my brother—what's-his-name–but no sound came. My mouth just kept opening and closing, opening and closing like a dying goldfish swirling around the toilet bowl.

I kept trying, even after being flushed, but still no words would come.

Then 'a monster', for want of a better description, took me by the arm. I kicked at whoever/whatever with my foot, but nothing happened. I was paralyzed. A second 'monster' appeared. It held something between its fingers. I couldn't tell what the something was until I looked more closely.

"Let's get this into him, fast."

_A syringe. Oh, crap!_

I needed to defend myself, but was transfixed. I couldn't even blink. There came a tapping - vigorously- to the crook of my arm, producing a nice, big, fat, juicy blue-green vein. Then I felt a splash of cold water. Only it wasn't water it was metal. I watched in a detached sort of way as the sharp point of the needle went into my arm and then was pulled out.

"You sure it's dead, Dean?"

"Toes-turned-up dead."

"Good. Don't need that bitch coming after him again."

Voices.

Guh!

They kept circling around me.

Calling out.

Ghostly whisperings. Edgy and deep. They caused goose bumps to run ramped up and down my spine.

I looked to the needle mark on my arm, and all I could think of was…was…was…nothing at all. Everything warped around me like a bizarre dream moving in slow motion.

I gathered a breath, gathered it deep in my chest and finally the meek words came. "Help me."

I was terrified, and felt really sick to my stomach. I took in slow breath, after slow breath shivering as a cool draft rushed over my entire body. My brain wasn't working. Thinking dumb thoughts like: I'd underestimated the time. I wasn't going to be fast enough. He'd never take another bite of killer Key Lime pie again if I didn't move my ass. I struggled to remember more, not expecting much, but utterly disappointed when I got absolutely nothing.

It was like I'd been shoved into a tiny, airless closet, or maybe I was nothing more than a brain floating in a jar of formaldehyde in some mad scientist's lab?

Then somewhere in the darkness, and beyond my reach, I heard grunts of exertion and moments later, I found I was vertical and being dragged around a large room.

"Sam, come on, we need to get you out of here."

What?

Who?

I didn't know.

There came a hollow banging sound and I stumbled.

"Watch it, ya idgit, keep him standing."

"Trying, he's not exactly a lightweight."

I heard the words, but they were jumbled so badly I didn't understand the alien language. Maybe the voices weren't even real.

I was really out of it.

Another moment later, or longer, I couldn't be certain, there was a huge crash.

I was on my back again, staring up into not one, but two blurry faces. Not monsters...humans.

They were talking animatedly to me, but it was like being under the ocean, frozen in a block of ice and I couldn't make out one single word.

I felt another splash of cold water, but this time it wasn't metal and it wasn't sharp. Trembling fingers felt around on my neck stopping to press against a throbbing artery.

"Uhhh," I groaned.

A second hand pressed to my chest and stayed there.

"Just take it easy, Son."

Then a calm voice whispered in my ear. So close I felt the hot breath.

"Here… I'm right here, Sammy."

I shrank away from Secondhand, but it did me no good. "Damn fool kid, always got to take things down the hard way."

The voice kept following my every move. "Should we hit him with another dose of serum, Bobby?"

I opened my mouth to yell, to scream, but only a croak came out. All I could do was listen to the voice in my ear and try to make some sense of what was being said.

A hand racked through my hair. "Not going to hurt you, kiddo."

The hand moved from my hair. Searching and roaming over my skin, sending cold chills through me. It was fight or flight time. I went with fight.

"Don't. No don't."

My body convulsed, siezed with fear, and my limbs twitched, but I didn't go anywhere once again...was like I was totally shutting down. I just wanted them to go away, so I slammed my eyes shut. _Get off! Get off me!_

"Stop. Sammy, stop it."

"Get off!" I surprised myself when I managed to pull the words from my lips.

"It's okay. You're okay."

The hand on my chest became four hands, strong-holding me down.

"Thank your daddy's genes. Kid's stronger than he looks. Most folks be completely paralyzed by now. How's his breathing?"

"Not good. Wheezy."

I rolled open my eyes and regarded a pair of deep-green ones looking closely back at me. Or were they blue-green? Hazel? Green-gray? I couldn't tell they kept changing color.

"It's his heart rate I'm worried about. It's skipping beats already"

"H-help," I hollered, but it only came out as a whispered-gag.

I struggled, once again thinking of my gun, but unable to get to it, wherever 'it' was. My muscles quivered, and I let out a pathetic whimper.

"Easy. We're trying to help you, ya idgit. Just lie still."

I tried to speak again, but my tongue was thick as shoe leather and I had no control over my eyes as they fluttered and danced.

"Hey! Hey!" Fingers snapped in front of my face. "Look up here. Look up at me, Sammy. Try to understand."

I could feel the darkness all around me and it gathered into my gut and made me feel sicker. Yet, even in all that blackness I still found the strength to fight.

"Go away." I croaked as I felt my throat constrict, and my lungs seemed to glue shut.

"Keep him calm, Dean, while I check him over again."

Iron-fisted hands gripped my shoulders pinning me. I fought, but still couldn't move. My head was swimming. Overwhelmed, I choked on a sob.

"Easy, boy."

"C-cold." I shivered.

A hand came to rest on my forehead.

My right eye was pulled, forced open wider, then the same to my left, each followed by flashes of light.

"Stop." I tried to bat the offending hands away.

"Pupils are still dilated."

I groaned, catching sight of a pair of soft fatherly eyes and a dirty-blue ball cap as the figure crouched over me.

I gathered some air. "Pl-please," I begged him to let me go.

"Just a little while longer, son." Ball Cap smiled sadly.

What were these guys looking for? Whatever it was I didn't have it tattooed inside my eyelids.

"He seems a little better though, right?"

"Sure…sure he does, kid, but I think we better hit him up with more serum."

Ball Cap disappeared and my eyes darted around wildly for him.

"Sammy, hey."

I couldn't find him. Where was he?

"Sammy...dude...Calm down. He'll be right back."

I heard a rusty creak and a door slam shut.

"Sam." Chameleon Eyes peered with concern down at me.

I recoiled.

"Come on. You're not going anywhere, man." He extended his hand, gentle fingers caressing my cheek. "Just relax. I need you to relax, bro."

I flinched from the touch.

"Easy, it's just me, buddy."

A rusty creak and a door slamming, and Ball Cap came back. He squatted down next to me, hovering, another one of those syringes in his hand.

"Take hold of his shoulders, but good, Dean, going to inject him with another double-dose dead-on into his heart this round."

"Bobby, god, don't say that!"

"Sorry."

"Will that be too much antidote?"

"I don't know."

I watched listlessly as Ball Cap flicked at the syringe, squirting the solution out of the needle into the air.

"We don't have a choice here, Dean. You know the Goobbues paralyzing poison is already working it's magic. We don't control it...his whole body will shut down. Heart and all." Ball Cap blew out a breath and bent over, saying something to me. "This is going to hurt. Sam, I'm sorry, but you got to trust me here. Going to get you fixed up, son."

I may have been rendered speechless and stupid, but I didn't like the way he was looking at me. Whatever was in that syringe was bad stuff.

It was flight time, but my body betrayed me, detached from my brain and only able to tremble helplessly.

Chameleon Eye's face paled as he steadied himself, hands still holding my shoulders.

Instinctually, I drew back and turned my head away from him. I'd had enough face time.

I felt the needle jab me in the chest and my eyes fixed wide, my body involuntarily springing up without me even trying as fiery pins spread out over my upper body.

"For crap sakes, Dean, hold him. I haven't injected it all into him yet."

"Ah," I gasped, back bowing slightly, head weakly rocking.

"Trying.

Chameleon Eyes chuffed and grunted as he flattened me back to the ground.

My breath was coming in half-hitches, body taunt, eyes darting, desperately seeking some kind of escape.

"You got him, Dean?"

"Just friggin' finish it already." A hand clamped down over my eyes so I couldn't see what else was happening.

I sped through darkness and pain, horrible dream-like images coming to me. A plump, bulky mass of wormy-gray skin, set upon two stumpy legs, abnormal floor-length arms waving about, shark-sharp, butter-yellow teeth, a mouth large enough to swallow a cow hole. I'd made the mistake of looking the thing straight in its beady-white eyes and it sent a mist of black ooze spraying into my face.

"Okay, it's all in."

I gasped. My muscles straightening and stiffening. Everything locking up on me.

"Breathe, boy!"

One set of hands held me in place, while another set fist-thumped several times against my chest – hard.

"Sammy! Talk to me, little brother!"

I couldn't talk.

Couldn't move.

Couldn't see.

Couldn't think straight.

"Damn it, Sam."

Finally, I exhaled a whoosh of air like a broken vacuum. The pain was bad, and I nearly cried.

"Okay, Dean, no time to waste. We need to get Lurch here back on those big-ass clown feet again."

I was pulled back up weightless and floating between the two of them as they dragged me around the large room.

Who were these guys? Or maybe more the question was who was I?

"Guh." My heart pounded out an S.O.S. in a sluggish way.

I was terrified, tried to concentrate. Really pay attention and take it all in.

But everything was foggy and heavy and thick. I heard a flapping sound and turned my head to the right to see large open windows, tattered sheets of grimy plastic rustling in the wind.

The room we were in was warehouse-big, the walls water-color grey, trash and debris everywhere, the scent of moldy, stale bread in the air.

I glanced over at Chameleon Eyes. His face looked worse than the melted down version of Dorian Gray's portrait.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Sam? You with us?"

I frowned.

"Bobby, he looks bad."

"Keep him moving or his heart will shut down."

It dawned on me that I was being treated gently. Warm arms wrapped around my waist, holding me close, supporting all my weight.

It didn't make any sense, but I let fight mode slip away and there was no flight left in me. I just gave up. Let my head drop, chin-to-chest. Whatever happened after that happened.

"Sammy, don't you give up on me, damn you!"

I just wanted to lie down and curl into a fetal position.

"Come on, Sam, stick with us here. Keep moving." Chameleon Eyes dogged me on.

I wanted to tell this guy he was a big, fat jerk, but I couldn't get that many syllables out. Instead, my arm twitched where the sting of the first needle had gone in.

His hand rubbed up and down on that very spot as if he'd read my mind. His touch was soft and soothing in a way that confused me_. Just leave me alone_. I slumped further in their arms, shoulders hunched, legs trailing behind now and again, and a cold ache in my chest.

"This isn't working. Bobby! Why isn't this working?"

"Don't pack him on ice so fast, boy. Just keep him moving. It will work. Give it time."

A silence fell over the room - for how long I didn't know.

I knew I was descending.

Sliding downward.

Was I dead?

On my way to hell?

Felt like I was splitting in two.

"Up, boy. Stay up."

More jumbled words and voices slipping in and out.

I didn't like this up and down elevator. But the nausea and cold ache were getting less, things becoming clearer with each step.

"It's working. It's working."

"You might remember I told ya it would, Dean."

"Sorry, Bobby."

"Just keep him moving a few more minutes for good measure. I want that antidote pumping good and fast…kid's got a lot of extra height and pounds on him."

_Bobby?_

_Dean?_

A light bulb suddenly lit up inside my oozy brain. Okay, so it wasn't bright-white, more like dim-yellow, but I finally put a few things together. Looking from one guy to the other, I finally began to understand the babbling words coming out their motor mouths, and garbled something in response.

"Sam!"

We'd stopped moving, and I hung between the two like a wet sheet. "Sammy, you hearing me?" Dean lowered his head, leveling me with a terrified look.

"You got one tough heart, kid."

I turned to stare at Bobby. He smiled at me, a tear gleaming in his eye.

I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, Dean snagged my chin and brought my head around to face him. "Sam!"

"Okay," I huffed. "'Em' okay, D'n." I gave a small head nod.

"Holy crap," Dean deflated, looking past me to Bobby. "He seem okay to you?"

"Kid's a champ," Bobby said, squeezing my shoulder.

Dean stared at me a moment longer his expression grim. "I ought to beat you down right here for pulling a stunt like that," he said, shaking off his fear and letting go the hard-hold he had on my chin.

"What?" I bumped and bounced about between them as we continued around the warehouse where the monster had ducked into.

"Come on, Sam, let's take a few more laps," Bobby interrupted. "Just to be on the safe side."

I was still panting for air and my chest hurt, but I was taking on more of my own weight, when suddenly my brain in a jar crashed to the floor, slowly gaining back some active cells.

_What? Wait? Warehouse? Monster? _

"Guys!" I froze, frantically searching all around.

The warehouse was eerily silent, only the sound of the flapping plastic still loosely blowing in the wind.

"There's a...the...a…?"

"It's okay, Sam, your brother finished what you started." Bobby pointed a finger t the center of the room.

I turned my head slightly to see a puddle of soupy guts where Dean had obviously put the dramatic finishing blows to the creature.

"Dean." I blinked at my brother, feeling completely exhausted and still a bit fuzzy around the edges.

"That was no blue-eyed, cookie-eating puppet you tackled, man," he growled, green eyes glittering with what I thought were tears.

"Dean –"

"Don't, Dean me, Sam. You almost died."

"I…I….it…it…that thing had you in its sights, Dean…and…and…if I didn't do somethi-" Out of nowhere my body turned to liquid-nothing, while my eyes felt like they were having some sort of seizure as they rolled in their sockets.

"Son of a bitch. Bobby!"

"I got the boy."

The last words I heard as darkness swooped.

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Suddenly, things were different. I woke up realizing right off I was in my not-so-favorite position again –flat on my back, propped into a stack of pillows.

I heard the sound of running water not far away. I sensed someone was by my side. Confirmed by the creak of a rocking chair and the flutter of book pages being turned faster than I knew anyone could read.

I opened my eyes and squinted about trying to remember and gain my bearings.

The room was bright, tiny dust particles floating in the sunlight coming in through the half-open, heavy-red drapes above me. Bobby was in the kitchen at the sink rattling the dishes as he washed them. I sucked in a breath, and smelled cinnamon and beef stew in the air. It smelled so good and what little bit of cold ache in my chest that was left was replaced by a warm homey fell.

I closed my eyes.

The rocking and page turning stopped. "You okay?" A soft breath puffed near my ear.

I rolled my head toward Dean's voice. "Yeah," I said in a gravel-road voice, still keeping my eyes shut.

"Sam, tell the truth, man." Dean laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed harder than I expected and I flinched. "Any pain? Dizziness? Nausea? You remember what happened?"

Damn, Dean was a pushy jerk. I didn't want to take his pop quiz. 'Cause I knew I'd fail. I was a little nauseous and when I'd opened my eyes the room did waver some.

The rocker made a clickety-clack sound as Dean scooted it closer. "Dude?"

I wished I could open my eyes, and surprisingly my wish came true. At first they only fluttered and I worked my way through the dizzying colors of fog until I got my vision under control. Through tiny slits, I looked up to see Dean bent down over me. I peered up into his ever-changing green eyes that squarely looked back into mine.

Things were still a bit fuzzy, but thankfully his face no longer looked like Dorian Gray. In fact, it looked perfectly normal, no not normal, Dean looked exhausted, like he'd been dragged to one too many all-night bars.

There were no yellow fangs. No extra long arms, stumpy legs, or wormy skin. Wait. The Goobbues? My memory started to come back to me in huge waves that made me gag.

"Sam? What is it? You going to be sick?" A gentle hand slid under my head and lifted.

"Help me up," I gagged again, but nothing came out.

Dean tossed off the light blanket that was covering me and with the same gentle touch, reached lower down my back and sat me up. "Better now?" he asked in a timber that I only remembered hearing when I was twelve and had the mumps on top of the flu.

"What happened?" I garbled, frowning and trying to sort it all out.

"Monster stuff happened, Sammy! Bitch got you good." A deadly heated look shadowed Dean's face.

A shiver ran through me. That look could cause an Antarctic meltdown. I glanced away, out one of the open windows. The sun had dipped behind a few rain clouds.

Dean was stone silent and that made me nervous.

My attention shifted from the window back to him. His expression had hardened. Anger? Worry? Either way, I didn't like it.

I glanced down at the book he'd dropped to the floor. It was open, but lying face down. I read the title on the spine. "Since when do you read Twain?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"What the hell were you thinking, Sam?" He bellowed.

"Things," I snapped. "

"That's bullshit, Sammy."

"So a monster got the drop on me. Wasn't the first time wouldn't be the last that happened to either one of us. It was killing me how Dean hovered over me all the time.

"It didn't just get the drop on you. You friggin' tackled it like OJ Simpson, before the white Bronco incident. You could have-"

"I didn't," I exclaimed, tossing my head a little and ducking behind a few strands of hair that fell over my eyes. "I need a shower," I started to get up, but Dean firmly stopped me simply by grabbing my shoulder and holding me in place.

"Sam? What. Were. You. Thinking?" He dipped his head lower and I couldn't help but see his frustration and fear. I had to give him some kind of answers or he'd never let me leave his classroom.

"I was thinking I wasn't about to watch my brother get torn apart, Dean. "

"So you jumped in-between me and Final Fantasy Three with the bad breath and creepy skin so I could watch you get torn apart instead."

"Dean, leave Sam alone," Bobby shot over his shoulder from the sink. "He needs his rest, and you know you would have done the same for him."

"That's my point, Bobby. I get torn up." Dean pointed a stern finger at me. "Not him," he hissed glaring me down like a hungry lion. "Not you," he yelled, finger jabbing the air some more.

I glanced past Dean as Bobby walked out of the kitchen and came to stand behind Dean, holding a steaming bowl of stew in his hand. "How you feeing, kid?"

"I'm okay, Bobby." I rubbed a hand over my chest, still feeling the punch of the needle to the heart. "What was in that syringe?"

"Things," Bobby said with a smile.

"You dizzy?" he asked.

"Some, sir."

"See," Dean barked.

"Shut it, Dean," Bobby snapped at my over freaked brother. "Nauseous?" he directed to me.

"No, sir."

"Sam." Bobby's posture told me I better come clean.

"A little, sir."

"Here," he handed Dean the bowl of stew, a spoon, and a napkin, "Feed him this...it will help."

"I can feed my-"

"Boy," Bobby scolded using his fatherly tone. "You let your brother help you eat a few bites, then you can go shower."

"Yes, sir." I nodded in defeat.

"Good." Bobby went back to the kitchen.

I must have really scared the hell out of Dean, because he shut his mouth as well and did as Bobby said, scooping out a spoonful of stew and bringing it to my lips.

I was going to argue about being spoon-fed like a baby bird, but Dean's eyebrows went all the way up telling me I better not. Plus Bobby would surely be listening in.

I angled back against the couch and kept eating spoonful after spoonful. It tasted damn good and I could already feel some strength returning to my arms and legs.

"You know you scared the hell out of me," Dean admitted softly, a hand landing on my shoulders.

"Yes." I nodded.

"It pisses me off when you do that shit."

"I know."

"I'm supposed to watch out for you."

"I know that too, Dean, but –"

Dean fed me another spoonful, effectively shutting me up.

"No buts, bitch. Listen up. That means from now on, you promise me, I, your big brother, take the hits, not you, Sammy, not you," Dean growled. "Do I make myself clear?"

I opened my mouth to protest.

Dean swiftly shoved another spoonful of stew in. "Shut up," he warned. "I only want a yes or a no, Sam."

"Everything all right out here?" Bobby poked his head out of the kitchen.

"Peachy," Dean said. "Sammy here was just about to promise me something."

"Oh, yeah, Sam, what was that?" Bobby asked, as if he hadn't been listening in.

"About to promise Dean from now on he can take all the hits," I said around a mouthful.

"That so, son?" Bobby stepped out from the kitchen and came to stand beside Dean.

I saw the twinkle in Bobby's eye and the bucket of dirty dishwater he held behind his back.

"Dean," I tried to warn him. "I don't think you better answer…"

Bobby waved a hand effectively hushing me.

"Two hundred percent so," Dean said, standing straight and tall and bossy. "It's my job to watch out for him, not the other way around." Dean picked up the bowl of stew and turned heels toward the kitchen. "Little brother thinks he's invincible and I'm not having it anymo –"

Bobby whipped the bucket of dishwater out from behind his back and let Dean have it full on in the face. "You were saying?" he laughed heartily.

Dean turned to me, shirt soaking wet, spitting water from his lips. "You saw this coming?" he swiped a hand slowly down his face and shook water from his dripping wet hair. "And you didn't warn me?"

I shrugged.

Dean thought for a moment, and then said, "Sammy, from now on we watch each other's backs. Promise me."

"I promise, Dean," I chuckled, staring over at Bobby and flashing him a wink and a thank you nod.

The end


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